CHPTER 19

Elric stepped out onto the platform.

There was still an hour left before the train’s arrival.

He couldn’t very well bring a sword with him, so he stood there with only a cane, trying to steady his tense nerves.

‘It’s fine. It’ll be fine.’

The guests arriving today were said to be from the West, but in the end, they were merely officers active on the battlefield.

And more specifically, they were supply officers.

‘There’s a high chance they don’t know about me.’

It wasn’t just wishful thinking.

Back when Elric operated as Kasha in the West, his main stage had always been the front lines of battle.

Unless he was wielding a blade there, he never appeared publicly, and as a result, little was known about him beyond his name.

On top of that, he had rejected all interview requests and was so strict about protecting his identity that he would smash cameras outright if anyone tried to photograph him secretly. Realistically, only a handful of clients who had met him in person could recognize his face.

Well… if there was one exception, it might be the imperial banquet he had attended once with his close friend, Elvers Graham.

Elric shook his head, dismissing the thought.

‘No… that’s impossible.’

That banquet Elvers Graham had invited him to was a secretive and closed gathering attended only by the children of the empire’s most influential families.

Even among attendees, the highest status would be the offspring of high-ranking nobles.

There was no way such people would be working as military supply officers. And even if they were, why would they personally come all the way to this rural place to conduct a trade?

It made no sense.

‘As long as I avoid the clients… just the clients!’

Elric squeezed his eyes shut, hoping desperately.

The train slowed down, releasing clouds of steam.

With a sharp hissing noise and a low rumble, the scenery outside the window gradually came into focus.

‘Finally, we’ve arrived.’

Polo, a supply officer of the 3rd Legion of the Mahir Empire, clicked his tongue and rested his chin on his hand. His thick belly folded over itself, asserting its presence.

His posture and the frown on his face made it clear he was in a very foul mood.

Naturally so. Even to himself, coming all the way to this insignificant countryside just to buy wheat felt utterly ridiculous.

The third son of a count’s family in the Empire.

A promising officer set to be promoted within a year.

And yet here he was.

Given that, all he could do was sigh.

‘Damn those kingdom bastards.’

The war was finally beginning to show visible changes.

With the fall of Chebor, the long, exhausting war of attrition was coming to an end.

From now on, it would be a war of plunder, each side taking and losing in turn. As the conflict intensified, the need for food supplies would only grow.

The situation had reached the point where every resource on the continent had to be secured, and meanwhile, the two kingdoms currently holding the upper hand—Armin and Disha—had entered into direct competition with the Empire for those supplies.

To ensure they lost not even a single grain—and to seize even one more—the nobleman himself had come all this way to negotiate.

Woooooo—!

With a loud horn, the train came to a stop.

Polo rose from his seat and made his way onto the platform with his heavy body.

That was when it happened.

“Well, if it isn’t you.”

At the grating, insolent voice, Polo’s face twisted into a deep frown.

He would have preferred not to recognize it, but it was far too familiar.

“So the proud Armin has come all the way here.”

“Not something the Empire should be saying, is it?”

Sharp eyes, a hooked nose, and a scarecrow-like thin frame.

It was Armin’s supply officer.

And not just him.

“Meeting you again here, I see.”

A man with a massive, bear-like build and a fierce appearance approached with heavy footsteps.

He was Disha’s supply officer.

The three men felt a strange sense of déjà vu as they stood facing each other in the middle of the station.

After all, the same scene had repeated itself at every stop on their journey to this far eastern region of Wibin. It was no longer surprising.

Polo steeled his resolve.

‘This is where it ends.’

So far, the Empire had secured only forty percent of the grain auctions—an embarrassing result for Polo. But if they could purchase all the grain in Wibin, they could raise that figure to sixty percent overall.

For the pride of the Empire and his own military record, this deal was crucial.

“Well, we might grow fond of each other at this rate. Go easy on me if we meet on the battlefield later?”

“You’re already assuming defeat? That says a lot about Armin’s discipline.”

“Oh, come now. I only meant we should have a good match. The Empire really is stiff.”

“Hmph! If not for Yeomhwa, you would’ve fallen long ago!”

“Gentlemen, that’s enough.”

It was Disha’s supply officer who intervened.

His sturdy build alone was enough to suppress the tension between the two.

Polo clenched his teeth.

‘Let’s see how long you can keep that composure.’

Since this was the final stop of the itinerary, he had more time to investigate than in previous deals.

Polo had already thoroughly memorized information about the local ruling family, obtained through the Empire’s intelligence network.

‘The territory is called Wibin, but the real leader is Portman. The deal will likely be with him.’

The Portman family was a newly established noble house, having gained their title only ten years ago. Moreover, the head of the family who achieved that feat had passed away just a year ago, meaning internal instability was inevitable.

And to make matters worse, there was another factor intensifying that instability.

‘The heir who ran away ten years ago has returned.’

From the looks of it, it was reasonable to assume a reckless young master had returned late to claim his place as the head of the family.

Naturally, the lady who had effectively managed the household for the past decade would resist.

Who becomes the head of the family?

It was a common conflict among noble houses—and in such situations, Polo saw an opportunity.

‘I’ll support the young master. Use the position of family head as bait to secure a full grain deal.’

He was confident.

Behind him stood the Empire—and in a remote barony like this, the Empire’s name carried absolute power.

The heir had only returned about a month ago.

There was no way Armin or Disha had intelligence capabilities equal to the Empire’s.

Only he, who knew the internal situation, could take control of this negotiation.

Polo’s expression relaxed, confidence creeping into his voice.

“Well then, let’s move. There should be people here to receive us—no point in dawdling.”

“Hmph, they’re probably just servants of some rural baron.”

The skinny Armin officer scoffed.

Polo didn’t entirely disagree, but his informational advantage made him look down on the man.

‘Fool. Let’s see how long that arrogance lasts.’

Flap!

With a flourish of his coat, Polo stepped out of the station.

Outside lay a quiet rural village, filled with the smell of fertilizer—an outdated landscape that seemed a hundred years behind the capital.

Naturally, his shoulders straightened.

People who lived in a place like this would surely bow their heads to him.

The other two officers seemed to think the same, their expressions equally arrogant.

Then—

“Are you perhaps the guests from the West?”

A gentle male voice called out.

The three officers turned their heads.

Standing there was a limping man leaning on a cane.

Brown hair, soft eyes, and a well-defined nose gave him a kind impression. His smile was warm, and despite everything, his neat attire clearly showed he was no mere farmer.

Yet despite his pleasant appearance, Polo couldn’t smile.

“My name is Elric Portman. I serve as the acting lord of Wibin.”

The color drained from Polo’s face in an instant.

His fingertips turned cold, and his eyes trembled as if struck by an earthquake.

‘Elric… Portman?’

That man… the runaway boy?

No. That couldn’t be.

He was certain.

That name was absurd.

Polo knew very well who that man really was.

‘H-how…?’

Why was he here?